


Three times Castiel showed up at Jack’s door, and one time Jack showed up at his.

by JadeyKins



Category: Supernatural, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: Blood, Dean Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Sam Winchester - Freeform, haven't been watching season 11 so i don't know what that christmas is like, minor appearances by Naomi, should I mark death if the character's immortal and technically can't die?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeyKins/pseuds/JadeyKins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says in the title. This follows the prompt 'Thresholds.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three times Castiel showed up at Jack’s door, and one time Jack showed up at his.

New years always had that extra note of potential. It’d taken a few years to shake the trauma of the 2000 massacre, but [twelve] years later, Jack had managed to find the spark again. Of course, being in a new relationship during the holidays might’ve helped speed that process along. Now he had something—someone—to look forward to again. Things with Castiel had started taking off a little over two months ago. They’d met when Jack had been hunting down some alien scum that was feeding off of kids a few years beforehand. Castiel had been all too eager to help. Turned out it was some kind of seal of the apocalypse. Jack had averted it and they’d kept in loose contact.

Wasn’t until Castiel returned from another one of his disappearing acts that he’d shown any interest in romance with Jack. Something Jack was all too happy to share with Castiel. The angel was just frigging _hot_. Kissing him was like touching a spring morning. Fresh, a little wet, and always leaving him with a smile.

Jack had just dropped onto the couch with another trashy sci-fi magazine—he loved seeing how wrong the writers got the future—when there was a knock on the door. He frowned and checked his watch. Almost midnight. The Webley was on his way to the door, and Jack picked it up. He had the brains to keep it behind his back though.

Think of the Devil—well, the Angel—and apparently he would appear. Castiel was slumped against the door and fell inside as Jack opened it. He barely managed to catch the falling celestial. Instantly, Castiel grabbed onto him. “Whoa there, hot wings,” Jack murmured.

Apparently Castiel wasn’t able to say anything. He just hung onto Jack.

A cold wind was blowing into the house and while the angel wouldn’t get hypothermia, Jack could. Not one of his favorite ways to die. Jack hauled Castiel in, shut the door, and then got them situated on the couch. Castiel couldn’t seem to focus despite Jack’s efforts. Even a quick kiss failed to bring clarity to those deep blue eyes. Finally, Castiel uttered a single word. “Naomi.”

Jack’s blood froze. Though he wasn’t on familiar terms with many angels, he’d met Naomi a half dozen times before. When it came to angels, she wasn’t one he wanted to see. Ever. Jack ran his hands through Castiel’s hair and cupped his face. “What? What about her?”

Blood pooled up from the inner corners of Castiel’s eyes. Something was off. Some kind of magic. Jack hated magic. It had a tendency to act unpredictably and worse, he had trouble counteracting it. Sure, most magic turned out to be some high tech gadget, but when it came to angels, Jack was still clueless. Streams of blood were coming down from Castiel’s eyes. One second they were just forming and then suddenly they were caressing his chin. And there hadn’t been an in between. Time wasn’t moving the same for Jack as it was for Castiel.

“Damn it,” Jack hissed. “Just, hold on!”

He ran for the pantry, knocked aside a whole shelf of canned goods, and opened the safe beyond. Took a minute, but he grabbed the tech he wanted and rushed back to Castiel. He looped the necklaced around Castiel’s neck and flipped on the switch.

Castiel took in sudden, gasping breath. He clutched onto Jack’s shoulders and his eyes went wild. After a moment, they finally focused. “What. What did you do?”

“Spatial temporal lock. You were being dragged into two places at once.” Jack touched the necklace. “This anchors you here.”

Castiel fussed with the necklace. He still had the scared animal look going, but Jack knew better than to press for details. Not sharing information about traumas was sometimes how people got through them. After a long few minutes, Castiel relaxed against the couch. “Thank you.”

“Hey, least I could do.”

Slowly, Castiel eased his feet back onto the floor. “Jack, I have a confession to make.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I haven’t—”

A flurry sound of wings and everything in the living room got caught up in the gush of displaced air. Naomi, stern as ever in her grey suit with an even more dour expression, snapped, “Castiel, don’t.”

And just like that, Castiel’s jaw shut.

Jack stood and had the Webley aimed right for Naomi’s heart.

“You know those weapons don’t hurt me,” Naomi said.

“Yeah, but it’s satisfying to see the bullet go through you,” Jack returned.

“I’d appreciate it if you removed the lock from Castiel. He and I have much to discuss.”

“Seemed more like torture to me.”

The smallest of smiles quirked Naomi’s lips. “Familiar with how it looks? I wonder if that’s from the tortured or torturer’s perspective? More one than the other, I imagine.”

Jack frowned. “Get out of my house.”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave without Castiel.”

“He isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“Castiel. Remove the time lock. We have business to discuss.”

Once again, Castiel obeyed the order. A few claps of wings and Jack was alone again. He’d be alone through the whole holiday.

 

***

 

The next year. A different house. A different city. Jack hadn’t seen Castiel since the Heavens had opened up and threw down the Angelic Host. Almost seven months had passed. He had begun to believe that Castiel had perished with the others. At least then he wouldn’t have to see the mess the angels were making down on Earth. Or what the Winchesters were doing to the planet with the insane way they ran around the country trying to clean things up.

So Jack was surprised when someone managed to ring his doorbell at eleven two and a half weeks before New Year’s. More surprised when he opened the door and Castiel was standing on the other side. All of the angel confidence and stature was gone. In fact, Castiel shivered as he stood there, which was no surprise since he wasn’t wearing a good winter coat and they were in Milwaukee. Jack ushered him inside and wrapped a blanket around him.

“I’m human,” Castiel murmured once his teeth stop chattering so loudly. “Metatron tricked me. Stole my Grace. It’s my fault the angels fell.”

“You need a shower. Something to eat.” Jack ran his hand along Cas’s forehead. “And I think you’re coming down with something.”

Castiel gripped his arm and growled, “Did you hear me?”

Jack faked a grin and brushed back Castiel’s hair. “Hey, you’re alive. Know what that means? You’ve got the chance to do something. Make things right. Not everyone gets a second chance.”

“Or a fifth,” Castiel murmured.

“Point is, you can do something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out after we get you bathed and in fresh clothes.”

And that time Castiel stayed with him through New Year’s. They spent time together, cuddled, and made stupid resolutions that they’d never be able to keep. One of them being sticking together. Only two weeks after New Year’s Day, Castiel took off on some demon hunt while Jack went to chase something down in Canada.

 

***

 

In the following year, Jack managed to lose both houses and dashed the chances of making up a new alien fighting team. The last potential member had shook her head and walked away after a particularly nasty creature took out her family. Jack couldn’t blame her. Even he was getting tired of losing all the time. The New Year was beginning to look grim again. Apparently he had never broken out of the old pattern.

And Castiel had begun a new one. This time he appeared at Jack’s hotel room with a bottle of vodka. That colder demeanor was back. The angel vibe. Jack tried not to show his disappointment, but he couldn’t help it. Human Castiel had been entranced by the simplest things. Angel Castiel could observe, but he rarely found as much joy. Especially when his mood was this dark.

“I’m dying. Dean’s dying. And a young girl’s life is a complete mess because of me.”

Jack poured two glasses, but Castiel dumped his into Jack’s. Right, this small amount would do nothing to the angel. As they sat and talked, Castiel relayed all the details about Claire Novak, lamenting that there was nothing more he could do for her. That she wanted nothing to do with him when all he wanted to do was help her. He’d taken her father. Her mother had disappeared looking for him, and poor Claire had been abandoned to a broken system. She was free of it, for now, but if discovered she might be taken back to such a facility.

“I can prevent that,” Jack said.

“How?”

“I’ve got my ways. Mostly, just keeping track of her and staying hacked into police dispatches.”

“I’d be grateful if you could find her. I promised her space, but she’s my responsibility.”

“Absent fathers tracking wayward daughters. At least it’s easier than it used to be. Kids practically walk around with GPS anymore,” Jack said.

“She’ll have disabled that.”

He grinned. “If she’s got a phone, doesn’t matter. I’ll find her.” His smile fell away and he ran his finger around the edge of the glass. “But you should get back to explaining what’s happened to you.”

And Castiel did. Afterwards, Jack had kissed him. One thing had led to another and they wound up blowing out the lightbulbs in the room. Jack had laughed and tried to ignore the ache in his heart. Castiel was dying, and that couldn’t be more clear now.

After all, they first time they’d done it, they’d blown the electricity of a whole city block.

 

***

 

Jack pitched forward and fell into the mud again. Magic. He hated magic. The gut wound was still bleeding. He’d died, woken, and died three times since the damn woman had stabbed him. Only magic could ever have this kind of effect and none of the technology in the SUV would counter this. The attempts only wasted valuable time.

Lucky he’d been close to Lebanon. Luckier that a long ago favor meant he knew where this hide-out was. And luckiest that Castiel had called him to figure out wireless connections. Without that call, Jack never would have known that the bunker had residents again.

He managed to get down the concrete steps and pull out the key ring, one of the few things he’d tracked down after Torchwood Cardiff blew up. They jangled as his hands shook harder. Death number five was coming up fast. He lost his grip on the keys. Pulling out the phone was impossible, so he pounded on the door. Weak sounding, probably fruitless. But the pain was overriding everything else. His knees were buckling under him and his hands unable to grapple for support. He fell against the door.

Just as it swung open. Castiel caught him and eased him to the floor. Jack coughed, blood coming with it. “Hey there, hot wings.”

Castiel only had eyes for the bloody wound. He pressed his hand flat against Jack’s chest and frowned when nothing changed. “I can’t heal you. Why can’t I heal you?”

“I’m the abomination,” Jack coughed.

“You’re a fact of the universe. Even Angels can’t change Facts.”

“Not entirely true.”

Castiel frowned more.

Jack reached up and managed to rest his hand on the back of Castiel’s neck. “Fell in love with you, didn’t I?”

“You’ll be back,” Castiel said, clutching harder onto Jack.

“Yeah, but this doesn’t—doesn’t go away.” And then breathing was too hard. He kept his eyes on Castiel because at least then he knew he wasn’t dying alone. Not like the last dozen or so times.

And he came to with Castiel still above him, still holding onto him. His great coat was gone and his shirt. The ceiling had changed. They were—wait, he knew this one, ah yes—the secret dungeon. Jack drew in a ragged breath. The pain wasn’t back yet.

“Dean, he’s awake,” Castiel said.

“When you said immortal, I really didn’t believe it,” Dean replied.

“We met Prometheus,” Sam said. Jack knew the voices—hours of surveillance about alien threats over the last decade had occasionally ran into the Winchesters, especially a few years ago, though that turned out to be fairies, not aliens—but until today he’d avoided an actual introduction.

The wound across his stomach reopened and he screamed.

“He said it’d be back.”

“What is it?” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know!” Castiel shouted.

“Cas, calm down. We’re trying to help,” Sam said.

“I’m sorry. I—I just. He matters to me.” Castiel idly brushed his hand across Jack’s cheek. Held him close. If Jack couldn’t get relief, at least he was in the arms of someone who cared.

“What is he?” Dean asked.

“More like, who is he?” Sam added.

“My lover.”

Both brothers were suddenly leaping into a long discussion on the hows and whys of that possibility. Jack didn’t care. Focus was getting away from him again. Eventually, Sam pointed out they weren’t getting anywhere and they interrogated Jack. Jack tried to be honest, tried to keep answering, but he passed out again. Getting to the bunker had been an act of sheer willpower and he didn’t have the energy to keep fighting anymore. Castiel roused him before he died. “Describe her again.”

“Scottish. Red hair. Bad attitude.”

He thought he heard the name Rowena, but the darkness dragged him down.

When he came to the next time, he knew something was wrong. At least before, when he woke, he didn’t have the stomach pain. He’d felt strong enough to get up. This time, he could barely raise his head. Castiel was still holding him and those blue eyes looked genuinely worried.

“Hey,” Jack croaked. “You’re not dying anymore.”

“I’m not. Metatron had stashed some of my Grace. I’m stable.”

“I think—I think I’m dying.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but a tear slipped down his cheek. And it wasn’t the first one.

“This isn’t—” Jack groaned. “—Isn’t possible.”

“It’s happening,” Castiel said. “The vortex in you is being drained away. Sam and Dean think they have a lead.”

“Surprised you’re not with them.”

“I couldn’t bear to leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

There were more silent tears from both of them. Jack held onto life as long as he could, but he slipped away again. Came back weaker. He died three more times. When he came back to consciousness again, he could hardly open his eyes. This was going to be it. The last time. He’d be dead for good this time and he couldn’t quite handle that. All those years wanting death and now he had a real chance of biting it, he wanted to hold on.

And then, suddenly, bright pain flooded into him. He bucked. Gasped. Clutched onto Castiel.

Jack’s wound was gone. His breathing normal. He sat up slowly.

They broke it. They broke the curse.”

Jack grinned and kissed him. They were both covered in his blood, but Jack had been covered in a lot worse. After a long, happy moment, Jack broke away. “Hopefully this’ll break your little tradition.”

“What tradition?”

“The one where I have to take care of you at New Year’s.”

Castiel managed a weak smile. “It has been a bad few years.”

“Let’s hope this next one’s better.”

“It will be if you stay with me.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get my hopes up, hot wings.”

“I mean it. Stay with me.” Castiel wrapped his arms around Jack and kissed him.

They managed to get cleaned up before Sam and Dean got back. And luckily enough, Jack had a spare fuse for the bunker’s box.


End file.
